Variations of a Theme: A Rogue's Gallery
by Black Magik Woman
Summary: AU.  A series of unrelated vignettes taking a look at different barriers that prevent Rogue from being able to touch/be touched.
1. Incarceration

The fluorescent lights were too harsh for his sensitive eyes. The heavy security door buzzed and swung open and a slight, pale figure was ushered into the room flanked by a matronly guard with a humorless face. He exhaled slowly and drew his lips into a straight line. He itched for a cigarette.  
As soon as she sat and picked up the telephone receiver, he picked up the corresponding receiver and began. "Why, Anna?" he asked softly, his Cajun accent thickened with disappointment. "I could've helped y' get outta dere."  
The young woman opposite raised her weary eyes to her lawyer. "Had ta be done, Sugah," she said flatly.  
"Y'do realize how heavy de charges are, _non_?" Remy LeBeau leaned his elbows on the table. "I don' know if I c'n talk de judge into a lighter sentence."  
"Ah guess that just proves the ol' bastard still managed to get the last laugh," Anna smirked mirthlessly.  
"An' what's dat?"  
Anna bit her trembling lip and lifted her hand to the Plexiglas barrier between her and the outside world. Remy followed suit until their fingertips lined up against each other, hand to hand but only feeling the cold, unyielding glass beneath. "He said if he can't touch me no more, then the rest of the world can't."


	2. Deployment

Her entire body ached, but was past the point of exhaustion making sleep elusive. The patrols and daily training sessions not to mention the heat and the horrible food were taking their toll. Although she was surrounded by fellow soldiers brought together to fight for a common cause, Anna felt completely alone and isolated in this desert in the middle of nowhere.

She thought of home and her chest tightened. She'd give anything to fly halfway around the world to be with the ones she loved so much. Olivier and Becca were growing so fast. Anna felt a stab at how many milestones and accomplishments she missed with each deployment. And Remy... Anna longed to see that teasing grin and feel his kiss and touch. Every time he touched her, her skin tingled as if he held an energetic charge in his fingertips. Anna's skin practically ached with longing to feel the firm hugs of her children and the passionate embraces from her husband.

Ana turned her head and saw the calendar on the wall among the various pictures of her loved ones. They were all so proud of her. She pressed her lips to her fingertips and then touched the framed family picture by her bed. "Momma will be home soon," she whispered. Forty days down, one hundred and forty to go.


	3. Society

Remy LeBeau surveyed the festive scene before him with boredom. He felt as if he was submerged in a sea filled to the brim with colorful fish. Flashes of bright silk and the twinkling of of brilliant jewels swirled in front of him. He never liked these forays into polite society, but as the heir to his father's shipping empire, he had to keep the family business running. His brother, Henri, had settled across the Channel to London some years before and due to his connections, Remy was obligated to make the trip to London several times a year to glad hand with the English customers.

"Are y' not diverted, _mon frere_?" a jovial voice spoke at his elbow.

Remy turned and regarded his brother. "I hate being dragged t' dese dances," he gritted. "Not'ing more than de _bourgeoisie_ marrying off de _femmes_ t' de highest bidder."

"Ah Remy, but dat's de fun of it, _non_?" Henri grinned. "Y' have created _le coeur brise_ ev'ry time y' decline all de introductions dat I've been petitioned to make. Y' should meet at least _une femme_."

"What's de point?" Remy muttered. "Dese people only want t' secure their fortunes. It's barbaric."

"Not'ing barbaric in enjoying a smile an' standing up wit' _une belle femme_," Henri countered.

"The Lady Anna Marie Raven, Countess of Darkholme!"

With the announcement, all heads in the ballroom swiveled towards the grand staircase, and the crowd rippled with awestruck whispers. Remy's reply to his brother lodged in his throat as he took in the vision regally descending the staircase. She was dressed in a deep green silk gown, which brought out her flashing green eyes brilliantly. Her brown hair was piled into a mass of glossy curls at the top of her head, which was held high, coolly surveying the scene before her. A pair of full, ruby lips were set in a pale, heart shaped face framed with distractingly white curls.

"_Mon Dieu_," Henri breathed.

Remy felt his throat go dry. "Henri," he said, "y' must introduce me t' her."

Henri laughed and shook his head. "I'm afraid I cannot help y', _homme_. Lady Anna Marie is several rungs above us in polite society. An introduction from me is impossible. We can't touch her."

Remy grinned at his brother. "Social class has never stopped me before."

"Dere's somet'ing else, _mon frere_," Henri grinned back.

Remy quirked an eyebrow quizzically. "Do tell."

"She and her family hate de French."


End file.
